EXTRACT FOR
Challenges and Trials
(Fiaine Cluiun)

Julia dozed, thanks to the pain relief she'd been given, but it didn't change how her body was coping with what the senior healer had put her through. If anyone had told her, prior to the soldiers taking her to the temple, that another healer would be capable of treating her like this, she'd have laughed in their faces, and told them to seek help. Healers weren't supposed to cause harm. They were given a gift, a drive to heal, but the senior Healer had warped everything she'd ever believed about those who chose to walk the path of healing and helping. 

Whatever the older man was, she would never again see him as a true Healer. It didn't matter if he still used his knowledge to tend to the injured men at the Farm, she knew he didn't assist the slaves. Females, women, animals, beasts, they were given degrading names for the most part, and that placed them below the Senior Healer's attention as anything other than bodies to experiment on.

The door cracked open, drawing her awareness to the here and now. 

Please, give me a little longer. Would it be so wrong to rest for a time?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn't speak against the man. Not if it was the young Healer. He'd gone out of his way to help her, but perhaps his only reason had been the women she would work with? She wanted to believe there was something more to what he'd done, but giving herself a false hope wouldn't help her long term.

It didn't stop the temptation. 

"Up. I need to see you moving around before we leave." The Healer flashed a smile.

She wanted to lean into the warmth offered by that brief flicker across his lips, but she closed her eyes and rolled onto her side. It hurt, her back and neck, her pussy and thighs, her muscles, bones, everything in between, ached, burned, or were at least sore. He was watching her but didn't offer to help. Not that she expected him to. 

Julia grasped the edge of the medical table, winced, and swung her legs off. The moment she touched the ground she knew the pain medication had helped. There was a fuzz, however small, between herself and the sharp pain she'd experienced earlier. The cause of the pain was still there, it wasn't going to go away, not until her body had been given a chance to recover. 

Rest. Heal. Things she'd told her patients to do more than once, but she'd also understood that it wasn't always possible. She hadn't worked with the rich, those who had others to do much of the labor for them. No, she'd lived outside of a village, her people were hard working craftsmen and women, farmers, wives, and mothers who juggled taking care of their home with working alongside their husbands, fathers, brothers, and yes, even their young. 

Slaves weren't given the same consideration. From what she'd seen in the slave's section of the Healer's Hall the women there couldn't walk without assistance. Whatever the reason for the illness or, in most cases, injuries, the damage inflicted meant they were unable to serve for the time being. She had little doubt they'd be turfed out of the cots as soon as the senior healer believed they were capable of working.

Regardless of what their actual health status might be.

"Wear this." 

She caught the simple tunic, not unlike the one she'd worn during the journey from the estate to the Farm and tugged it over her head. The rough cloth scraped her skin, but she wasn't going to complain. Wearing something was better than nothing but she had to wonder why he bothered presenting her with clothing when it didn't appear to be normal for the slaves sent here.

"Ready?"

"Yes, Master." She kept her voice soft and submissive. Despite the rough weave the tunic at least would protect her from the ever-present piercing gazes of the men who called the Farm their home. The homespun was the standard beige, or off white, with a trim of red and green stitches around the scoop neck and hems. "Thank you, Master."

"You'll need it, and the tunic will mark you as one assigned to my service." He leaned against the counter, his gaze never shifting from her barely covered body. "Which should make things easier, though I won't guarantee it will keep you safe from all of them. I'll do my best to keep you close to me, but if you're out of sight then there's little I can do."

"I understand, Master." The men were so used to being able to grab whatever woman they wanted, that without the tunic she would have been a walking target. The Hosts alone knew that if it hadn't been for the protest and quick thinking from man escorting her to the Healer's Hall earlier in the day, she might never have made it to the hall.

Considering what the Senior Healer had put her through, she couldn't claim being saved had been a good thing. 

Despite help from the young Healer, Julia's body protested loudly as she made her way out of the small room. Each step hurt, but she knew better than to complain. A whimper or moan might draw the attention of one of the older healers, or worse, the senior healer. Better to keep silent and obey the younger man. He wouldn't want to be seen as weak because of pampering a slave, and the Senior Healer had already suggested the man was pandering to the slaves. To Julia in particular. 

At least he'd tried to help her, even if his reasons might be selfish. He needed, or wanted, a woman to keep the other slaves from panicking. She could understand how always being around men, and having no one to trust, would eventually damage the slaves, putting their breeding and milking potential at risk.

Is it selfish? I'll be helping the other women, and he appeared relieved with the idea of having someone who would work alongside him. 

Did the other healers work with the women? She'd only seen the younger healer enter the women's area, and the way he'd phrased things made it unlikely the other healers had anything to do with the slaves except as targets for experiments or their lusts.

"Come. I don't need to waste any more time, slave. We'll be losing daylight before we finish the first of our rounds." The Healer glanced back at her as he paused at one of the tables in the main entrance. "You'll carry these." He gestured to the two leather bags on long straps. "Have to have more than one reason for bringing you with me, so you'll fetch and carry as well as serve alongside me with the breeders. Understood?"

"Yes, Master." She inclined her head before reaching for the satchels. The design was familiar. She'd had something similar at home. Several of them, one of leather like this one, but the others made of heavy canvas and lined with linen. She slung one strap over her head to settle on her left shoulder and did the same with the second but on the right shoulder, the straps forming an x across and between her breasts. With the long handles the bags rested on her hips and upper thighs. She'd feel the strain soon enough but wasn't going to make the mistake of complaining about the weight. 

"Keep silent until we reach the breeding pens. If you try to talk to anyone on the way, it will only draw unwanted attention and I'm in no mood to deal with the soldiers arguing that their needs are greater than mine." He pulled on a thin cloak. 

"Yes, master." She waited calmly, hoping the others wouldn't approach her. Maybe the young healer wasn't taken as seriously as the older ones. What was his name anyway? She hadn't heard any of the others address him as anything other than healer, or boy in the case of the senior healer. Same with the other healers, she didn't know their names.

And why would they introduce themselves to me?

They wouldn't, no more than they would to a horse, or cow. She was a beast of the two-legged kind, but still a piece of property. Did you tell the chair your name before you sat down?

The idea burned within her breast as she followed the healer out into the courtyard. Her back, buttocks, legs, everything hurt. The ache had worked its way deep into her bones but the time he'd given her in the small room before returning to inform her that he could wait no longer, had given her a chance to rest and let the painkilling properties of the salves and drugs work their way into her system.

It wasn't enough to stop the pain, but she could now move without wanting to weep. A small blessing but one she wouldn't take for granted. 

Sunlight, warm and bright, caressed her face. She kept close to the Healer, her bare feet making little sound despite the pace she struggled to keep. The man, like the majority of the men she'd dealt with, was taller by at least a hand, and his legs longer than hers. He wore boots, which allowed him to walk more quickly without worrying about something sticking or scratching her feet. 

Voices called out. Men, not women. It didn't surprise her as the women remained silent, attending to their chores. She glanced at the nearest group as they worked, naked for the most part, with hawthorn brooms both long handled and shorthand whisks, swept and cleaned the courtyard. They weren't alone, nor was any woman once they were outside of the slave stables, the risk of the women working together to find a means of escape must have been real from the way they were constantly watched.

Or maybe they're hoping to snatch one of the slaves for a time?

She hadn't been here long enough to know how it all worked, but neither was she going to ask the Healer. At least, not until they were away from here. The man was, perhaps, in his mid-twenties, easily a double decade younger than the other healers assigned to the farm. 

"Come now, nothing is going to happen to them beyond the service assigned to them. No punishments unless they break the rules, or deliberately antagonize their keepers." The Healer didn't look back at her. "We've got at least eight breeders to check, and a dozen milkers."

Breeders and milkers. She shuddered, hating the way the man referred to the waiting women. A part of her wanted to tell him they were people and had names, but whatever good will she'd earned with the man would be destroyed. What then? She'd be punished for breaking his command about remaining silent, and punished again due to forgetting her place, or acting as if she was a person instead of a slave. No, better to keep quiet until she had permission to speak and even then she'd need to watch every word she dared to utter. 

Shadows deepened when they left the courtyard behind and made their way through the collection of buildings. The slave stables, the ones she knew about, were left behind and ahead of her the area opened up. Fields stretched out before them, and walls stretched out from either side, surrounding them as far as she could see. She wanted to find something to climb and discover how far the walls continued. Surely they couldn't enclose the entire farm, complete with fields?

"The females won't be expecting you. I doubt they've heard there's a female hedge healer on the farm, but it will do them good to see a friendly face." He paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Hedge healers are not full healers. Do not make the mistake of thinking you hold the same status as a true healer. Just remember. They are slaves, just as you are. They are bound to serve us, the men on the farm. There are no exceptions unless medical restrictions are placed on them to protect a breeder during a more delicate time, or to prevent the milk from drying up. Only slaves on full medical restriction, such as those in the healer's hall, are completely off limits."

She tried to take it all in but there were pieces she obviously missed. Even a breeder had to serve men sexually? But what about the risks involved? Did they limit the types of service? What about the milkers? There had to be things they couldn't do without damaging the milk supply?

It wasn't something she had personal experience with. Her mind raced. There were plenty of other women kept in bondage, so there should have been a means of keeping those slaves who were in more vulnerable positions, safe from the ever-hungry men. Julia tried to keep the questions from swamping her thoughts. If she didn't keep her focus on the Healer, then it wouldn't be long before he noticed, and she'd be the one who paid for it.

Men and women moved through the fields. Mostly women working, hoeing, tending to the crops, with the men watching over them. They'd made their way through two sets of fields, divided into strips with different crops, when she heard the first cry of pain.